What Gets the Blood Going
by Lunavere
Summary: After being shot, John Watson is honourably discharged and forced to return to London. Upon his return, he finds that he is missing excitement in his life. He decides to take a buddy's advice and become a blood donor for vampires in hopes that it will help. When he is rejected because of the shrapnel in his shoulder taints his blood, he decides to just make the best of the night.


**Author's Note:** This is my original plot and ideas. If you see it posted anywhere else under a different username, please report it and contact me IMMEDIATELY.

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"I don't understand," John said softly, confused. "How could my blood be rejected? I mean, I know that this is a high-class vampire club, but I doubt that you have people with A3 blood waltzing through your door every day."

The secretary looked at him and offered a sympathetic smile. "Even so, sir, I'm afraid that your blood is… well, to be perfectly frank, tainted."

"Tainted?" John echoed. Involuntarily, his hand shifted up to his injured shoulder. Of course.

She nodded softly. "I'm afraid the shrapnel still left in your shoulder would most likely change the taste of your blood. It is therefore doubtful that any vampire would find your blood appetising." With that, she closed his file and slipped it into a drawer. "I'm very sorry, sir, but I'm afraid that it is unlikely that you will be accepted at any vampire club as a donor."

John said nothing in response. He still couldn't believe this was happening. After returning from the Middle East, he had found it impossible to thrive in London. There was no excitement here – nothing to keep John on his toes and make his blood rush. After his therapist tried and failed on several occasions to help him acclimate to civilian life, John ran into an old army buddy, Toby. Over a cup of coffee, Toby told John about how he managed to get out of his rut by becoming a blood donor for vampires. It was exciting and paid well. John, who had a rare subset of A+ blood called A3, decided that he would give it a shot. After all, what did he have to lose? And if it was as great as Toby said it was, he would wind up regaining a bit of his old self back. Except now this hope had been dashed to pieces by the same bloody thing that had flipped his world upside-down before.

"Sir?" the secretary called out, catching John's attention. "Your hand. I need to stamp your hand."

Giving her his left hand, he inquired, "Why?"

She seemed rather exasperated as he asked. "As I said before, all rejected donors are allowed to stay one night for free. Drinks on the house. Enjoy yourself." With that, she stamped his hand. "The door to the club is just down the hall and to the left. Have a lovely night, Mr Watson, and once again, our sincerest apologies."

"Yeah, that's a fucking brilliant idea," John muttered as soon as he left the office. "Why don't we make it up to the rejected donors by allowing them into the place for one night? 'Ooh, look, this is everything that you could have had if you weren't shot in your bloody shoulder!' Morons." He was planning to just leave – pretend like none of this had ever happened and lick his wounds over a pint at a pub – when he recalled that the drinks were on the house. Although he tried not to be so petty, John couldn't help himself. He turned left and entered the club.

John walked in and found that the club wasn't at all what he thought it would be. He had guessed a vampire club – even an elite one – would be a bit darker than this in both atmosphere and clothing. More gothic in a sense. He figured there would be mostly delinquents there – teens who were old enough to do what they wanted legally but young enough to still want to rebel against their parents. He assumed that there would be loud, awful music with people clustered together, grinding upon each other as humans desperately tried to get vampires to feed from them.

But what he found was more like a posh bar. Glancing around, he could see everyone there was either in something that could be considered business casual or formal. The music that was playing was almost like background noise to his ears. There were nice, black leather booths lined up along two walls. On the left-hand side was the bar, which was directly next to the bathrooms and a door that was marked 'VIPs ONLY.' In the middle was the dance floor, where a couple of people danced with one another. Other than that, everything was remarkably low-key. It didn't _seem_ like a vampire club. John rebuked himself the moment he thought that. After all, he had applied at one of the most elite clubs in all of London.

Walking up to the bar, John placed his hands down. Before he said anything, the bartender whirled around and flashed a black light onto John's hands. "Sorry to hear that, mate," he commented before putting the light away. "What can I get for you?" The Irish lilt to his voice surprised John just a bit. Irish vampires. As if the Irish didn't have enough issues burning in the sun.

"A pint of your most expensive beer," John said. He knew that he could go for the higher end alcohols, but he could never hold his liquor very well. Beer was just fine, and he knew his tolerance for it already. "By the way, how did you know?"

Nodding, the bartender grabbed a glass and began to fill it. "There are three different stamps used in the club. One for thralls, one for donors, and one for declined donors. It's so we know who to charge for the drinks."

"What the difference between a thrall and a donor?" John inquired, a bit lost.

The bartender's chocolate brown eyes widened, and he leaned forward with a grin. His fangs descended a touch, causing John to take a half-step back. Adrenaline rushed through his veins, and he sucked in a couple short, small breaths. "Oh, a newbie, hm?" the bartender commented. "Interesting that someone so green would try to start at a place like this."

"Are you going to answer my question or not?"

The bartender chuckled as he heard this. "Donors pay for their own drinks unless they find a vampire who wants to feed from them that night. Then it's just common courtesy for that vampire to pay for the donor's drinks. Thralls, on the other hand, are spoken for. Think of them as the vampire version of being in a relationship. They're exclusively with one vampire, so either that vampire or the thrall pays for the drinks. Just depends on their relationship."

"Oh," John commented, absorbing the information. "Alright, I just have to know. It's been something I've been wondering for forever now. Is it considered rude to ask a vampire for his or her age?"

The bartender laughed as he heard the question. "Hold that thought," he sang out, something that struck John as strange. A blonde, tall woman sauntered up to the bar and clearly said something, although John didn't catch what she said. In a flash, he had her drink – a Kamikaze, John noted – in front of her. Accepting her tip, he turned his attention back to John. "No, vampires aren't as sensitive about their ages as humans are. But the older a vampire is, the more respected they are. Vampires who are only 50 to 100 years old are nothing compared to a vampire who has lived more than 1000 years."

"How old are _you_ then?" John pressed, leaning in a touch as they spoke.

Grinning, the bartender ran a hand through his dark brown hair. His eyes glinted mischievously as he leaned back down to John's height, as he was 5 centimetres taller than John. "Old enough to not count anymore," he finally commented, amusement colouring his tone. He shifted away a second to get two more people drinks. John waited patiently for him to return. When he did, he asked, "What? Aren't you going to try to hook in a vampire anyway? That's what all the other rejected donors try to do.."

John shrugged nonchalantly. "I thought I had pretty good company where I was," he murmured. "Unless I'm boring you, of course. Just say the word, and I'll leave."

The bartender blinked a few times, clearly surprised by John's response. "My apologies. People generally don't stay around and talk to the bartender. Jim Moriarty," he said, reaching out to shake John's hand.

John smiled and shook it firmly. "John Watson."

"Do you mind if I…?" Jim's voice trailed as his eyes flickered down to John's wrist.

John's pulse sped up. "Really? Don't you think that's a bit fast? I just introduced myself, after all."

"Smell you, newbie," Jim clarified, amusement reflected in his voice.

Flushing in embarrassment, John muttered an, "Oh." He gave a small nod.

Jim flipped his hand over before bringing it up to his nose. He closed his eyes for a moment as he took a long breath in. "Smells like O-positive – but just a little off…" he murmured before his eyebrows crinkled with concentration. "No. A-positive. A3. But still not quite." Brushing his nose against John's skin, he inhaled through his mouth. John shivered as he caught a flash of fangs. His heart raced in his chest as his body begged him to flee. "Oh, now that is interesting."

"What is?" John pressed, finally having found his voice.

"You served in the army. Overseas. Iraq," Jim stated. Then he frowned. "No, Afghanistan."

Breathing out, John stared at him in awe. "How did you know?"

"I read people in my spare time. Not much more to do as a bartender anyway," Jim answered, giving a small shrug. "One moment," he said as three people came up. Before he left, though, he replaced John's half-full beer with a new one.

John reclined against the bar, patiently waiting for Jim to return to him, when someone suddenly appeared at his side. Instinctively, he lashed out, attempting to strike the man's Adam's apple. His hand was intercepted by another. "Slow down there, mate. Didn't mean to scare you," the bloke said with a laugh. He made a face and then brought John's hand in close to his nose and mouth. Automatically, John tried to yank his hand away, but the man had a firm grip on it. "You smell different," he noted, flashing a smile. The fangs were the only thing John could focus on.

"Release me," John demanded, his voice low and authoritative. Even though he wasn't in the army anymore, he could still whip out the strict voice needed to give orders. Orders that had to be obeyed under any circumstances.

The vampire frowned as he heard this. "Or what are you going to do? You're no thrall, which means you're a donor. That means that you have to give your blood to me even if you don't like me. Part of the contact, buddy. You should read the fine lines better."

"You honestly think I'm going to let you have one drop of my blood?" John snarled in return. His heart accelerated as his body began to thrum with energy. _Fight_, his mind screamed at him. By then, his mind also triggered that his blood was tainted. He could merely explain that he was a rejected donor, so this vampire has no claim over his blood whatsoever. Even so, his adrenaline was pumping now, and the only thing John could think about was fighting this vampire off to prove a point.

"I honestly think that you're not going to have any other choice," the vampire snapped in return.

What happened next all passed by in a flash. John saw the vampire go to bite his wrist only to disappear a second later. A booming _thud_ sounded out almost simultaneously, and he looked over to find Jim pinning the other vampire to the back wall. "You so much as _look_ at him again, and I'll rip your fangs out and make them into necklaces. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," the vampire choked out.

Jim released him, letting him slide down the wall. "Now get out of here. I don't want to see your ugly mug in this establishment ever again." The vampire said nothing as he rose to his feet and left, his form blurring as he raced out the door. It was only then that John realised how silent the club had become. All eyes were on them, and he suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious. Slowly, Jim approached John. "You're alright," he stated.

As if coming out of a trance, John looked up at Jim and blinked. There was a glint there – something primal. Possessiveness. Anger. Jealousy. It was a dark look. One that John had seen several times before in his line of work. It was the look of a man who could kill and not think twice about it. Eventually, John processed the words and nodded. "Yeah, fine. Sorry about all that."

"It was nothing," Jim answered as he passed by. "Some vampires need to learn their place in the world. That's all."

John nodded and slid up to the bar again. People started talking again – the low humming of voices complimenting the background music. His adrenaline was still coursing through his system, his heart still slamming against his rib cage. Swallowing, he took another drink of beer in order to calm himself down. Jim made three more drinks, but he stayed closer to John as he did so. Once the customers were sent away, he shifted back over and stood there. Neither said a word for a long moment as John drank his beer and Jim watched.

"I suppose I should thank you for that," John finally managed to say. His nerves had calmed down enough for him to think rationally.

"All in a night's work," Jim answered, leaning forward. Another moment of silence passed between them before he continued, "Do you see that woman over there? In the black dress?" He nodded behind John, making him casually glance behind in order to see who he was talking about. She was a pretty woman – long, red hair that curled and looped down her shoulders. Thin as well with a nice, supple arse. After John gave him a confirming nod, Jim explained, "She's been looking for a vampire to make her a thrall for a year now. Comes in every weekend in order to throw herself at anyone handsome enough for her tastes. No personality, though. Dumb as a rock. And she's been fed from so many times that no vampire would ever lust for her blood again."

John quirked an eyebrow. "I don't understand. How does being fed from change one's – I don't know what word to use here – attractiveness, I suppose."

"When a vampire feeds from a human, trace amounts of their venom winds up in their veins. Oh, don't look so startled. It doesn't do anything medically to the human. What it does do, however, is make the experience more enjoyable for both parties. Vampires are territorial by nature. We like to know that something has been marked as ours. But when a human, such as a donor, has had multiple vampires feeding from him or her, they have multiple venoms in their body. It dilutes their blood and takes away from the vampire's pleasure of drinking. We taste every vampire who ever drank from that human," Jim explained.

"The venom never fades or gets cleaned out of the blood?" John asked, baffled.

Jim hummed and squinted a bit, cocking his head to the side. "It does depending on how old the vampire is. So a week to a year, normally about a month, though. But you see, when you're a donor, you're being fed on quite often. You lose one vampire's venom only to gain another. She gets fed from at least twice a month. That is two more vampires than a vampire would prefer. And that's not even counting all the other vampires who have fed from her." He paused a moment. "Think of it this way – wouldn't you prefer a delicacy over a typical meal? After existing for as long as we have, we desire things that few others get to experience. Feeding from someone who has never been fed from before will always be more enjoyable than feeding from a donor who offers their neck to any vampire walking by."

Taking another swig of beer, John nodded in acknowledgement as he mentally noted this. "So why are you telling me this?" he inquired, looking back at Jim. Jim seemed somewhat surprised by the reaction. "Oh, come on. I'm not a moron. You never offered information like this before without me pressing for it. You have an agenda."

Jim grinned. "Indeed." With that, he leaned forward and whispered, "I would like to be your first. And only, if tonight winds up heading the way I plan for it to."

Surprised, John stared at Jim for a long moment. "You want me to be your – what were they called again? – oh, thrall! You want me to be your thrall?"

"Assuming your blood tastes as good as it smells, yes," Jim answered.

John frowned as he heard this. "You think my blood smells good?" he clarified. "I thought that – well, since it was _tainted _and all – that no one would want to drink it."

"All they know up there is numbers on a machine. If the numbers are between two variables, the blood is good. If not, don't risk it. It doesn't actually decide if any vampire would or would not enjoy your blood." He smiled softly at John. "Besides, it's also about what that represents."

John wasn't sure about how he felt in that regard. It represented violence, pain, and death. Nothing that could really be romanticised. "Bit fast, don't you think? We met just over an hour ago," he pointed out, still indecisive.

"Taking thralls is a fast business. We might have all the time in the world, but you are mortal, John. You're running on a countdown that could expire at any minute," Jim explained.

Shaking his head, John answered, "I don't feel comfortable with this. We don't even know each other."

"That's not true," Jim responded.

"How so?"

Jim grinned and propped his head on an arm. "I already told you that you're a former soldier returned from Afghanistan. You were shot in the left shoulder and honourably discharged from your service in the army. Upon return, you found it next to impossible to acclimate to civilian life once more. You came to realise that what you were missing in your life was excitement. Then you heard about being a donor at a vampire club. Probably from a friend who also donates here or is a thrall to a regular. You decided that that sounded pretty bloody exciting, so you tried it out. Only you were denied because of the aforementioned wound, which is really the part of you that has made me so damn intrigued." John gaped at him, unable to understand how he knew so much, and how he managed to find such a grotesque wound so fascinating. "Now here you are with a beautiful offer on the table – an offer that people like that red-head over there would kill for. And despite your need for a good, adrenaline-rushing thrill, you're hesitant."

"As I said before – I know nothing about you," John replied, leaning forward as well.

Jim smirked. "That's not true. You know I bartend here," he pointed out.

Despite himself, John chuckled. "You know what I mean."

"I'm over a thousand years old, Johnny. If you're lucky, you still won't even scratch the surface of who I am during our acquaintance," Jim informed him.

John smiled as he heard that. "I'd still want to try."

"You're stubborn," Jim noted. "I like that in a partner." Glancing back, he smirked before standing up straight. "I'm off the clock. It's now or never. Do you want to become my thrall or not?"

John took another long swig before he put his drink down. "How about I make you a deal?" he pressed. "You tell me ten facts about yourself – things I don't know – and I'll come with you. But by no means does this guarantee that I will become your thrall. It'll just give you a proper chance to convince me." When Jim gave him a look, he continued, "What? I thought you liked me for my stubbornness."

"I can already tell that I'm going to regret saying that," Jim noted as he walked out from behind the bar. Another vampire slipped in moments later. Walking over to John, Jim backed him against the bar and placed a hand on either side of him, trapping him there. John felt his heartbeat increase as Jim swooped down and inhaled deeply at his neck. "Are you ready? Listen closely, Johnny, because I'm not about to repeat myself."

"Ready."

"I hail from what is now known as Dublin, Ireland. I was turned into a vampire at the human age of 33 by a vampire who was looking to gain wealth and power. After serving him for a century, I turned on him and killed him in order to gain my freedom. I then travelled around the world, wanting to see everything I possibly could since I had no concept of immortality still. It has been at least 500 years since I have thought about taking a thrall as no one has ever seemed interesting enough." John perked up as he heard that last bit. It was astounding to him to hear such numbers – 100, 500, 1000 – thrown out so carelessly. Especially since John himself would be lucky to be 90. "I normally don't work at this club, but the usual bartender called in sick, as humans do have this tendency to catch illnesses far too easily, and there was no one else who could take his shift. Usually, I spend my nights immersing myself in books and plans and schemes. I let people hire my services in order to help them with special problems. That's how I gained my fortune. And let me assure you, John, I am _incredibly_ rich. But you're not too materialistic. I can see that." He paused a moment before smirking. "Ample enough information for you?"

"Then why are you bartending?" John pressed, cocking his head to the side. "If you're so rich, I mean."

Laughing, Jim responded, "Because I own this place, and my regular bartender took the night off, so I figured I would take the responsibility on myself and work tonight. Besides, since no one besides my employees know I own the place, it lets me see if everything is running more-or-less smoothly or if changes need to be made." Then, he gave a small shrug and added, "And as I told you before, I read people. I like to observe them and see what their flaws are – their insecurities – their needs and wants – their dreams. I like to see how they interact with others, with people they do like and people they don't. I find it all quite interesting."

John nodded as he listened. It certainly explained how Jim managed to know so much about him. And he would be lying if he said he wasn't the least bit interested in the vampire. Besides, this could be one of the few chances he had. "Lead the way," he finally responded.

Grinning, Jim pressed a hand into John's lower back. He pressed it forward and guided John towards the "VIPs Only" door. Even though it was two metres away maximum, John still caught enough jealous glances and astounded looks to know that this wasn't something normal for Jim Moriarty to do. Jim held the door open as John stepped into the hall. There were doors lined up along the hall before reaching an exit door at the back. Immediately, John knew exactly what these rooms were reserved for.

"What exactly makes someone a VIP?" John jested as Jim began to lead him down the hall.

"First of all, you have to be a vampire in order to reserve one of these rooms. One can rent one for 24 hours. Every room is sound proof and light proof, so there's no need for a vampire to worry about daytime. They also are practically mini flats, complete with a separate bathroom and kitchen. It was required after we received complaints from humans," Jim explained. "Obviously, first come, first serve."

Cocking his head to the side, John asked, "Why didn't the humans just leave?"

"Oh, they did. But most of them are thralls, and they would prefer to be able to stay with their vampire instead of having to leave to get something to eat," Jim replied as they stopped at Room 7. He pulled out a card from his pocket and slid it through the card reader on the door. Once it unlocked, he opened the door to allow John inside. "Take it all in."

John didn't understand what Jim meant until he walked through the door. The room was spacious, all things considered, with two beds in the room and a television across from one of them. There were two closed doors, both bound to lead into the bathroom and kitchen that Jim spoke about earlier. One of the beds looked incredibly squishy, as if John would just sink into it and be engulfed. It also had nice, fluffy pillows. The other bed was firmer. Although it didn't look quite as cosy, it didn't seem uncomfortable either.

"Two beds? For orgies or something?" John joked.

Jim smirked as he closed the door and locked it. "Vampires are territorial, remember?" he prompted as he turned around. "One's for sex and the other is for sleep."

"Oh," John noted, looking back. Now that he knew that, he noticed the holes in the headboard of the firmer bed. There was no doubt in his mind what those were for. And for the first time, John wondered what he had gotten himself into. Suddenly, he felt arms wrap around his waist and a kiss pressed into his neck. John tilted his head in order to give Jim better access. "Not much of one for wooing, are you?"

"I'll woo you enough once I have you as my thrall," Jim responded, his arms tightening around John's body. His lips pressed into a pulse point, and he hummed softly as John's blood rushed through his veins.

John smirked as he heard this. "Isn't that a bit backwards?"

"I told you before – taking a thrall is quick for any vampire. You see a human you want, and you try to claim them as soon as possible. Before anyone else can lay a claim. I want you, Johnny," Jim explained, his voice deepening and becoming powerful. _"I_ _want_ _you."_

John let out a groan as he felt Jim lick his neck. Something about Jim's voice just turned him on. He felt more alive now than he had since returning from the war. "Jim," he moaned. Jim's lips pressed against his throat again, and he could feel the words on his lips – "I'm yours" – so close to being spoken. If he could have this for an indefinite period of time, why wouldn't he take it? He hadn't remembered what it felt like to be wanted by someone. Cherished. Desired. And the fact that something so powerful wanted _him_, an all but broken former army doctor, was astounding in John's mind.

"John," Jim called out softly, his lips still against John's neck. "I want you to become my thrall. It's not as intimidating as you think. The equivalent to a boyfriend, remember? But it will ensure that no other vampire will lay a hand on you again."

John felt the vibrations of every syllable, and he froze a moment as he thought about it. "And if it doesn't work out between us?"

"Then I'll release you as my thrall."

"And the procedure needed to become a thrall?" John pressed.

Jim's fangs grazed against John's skin, causing him to tense up. "One bite is all it takes. I'll administer a larger amount of venom than a normal bite requires. It'll make this entire experience better and leave a marker in your body that tells every other vampire that you're _mine_."

John knew what logic was telling him to do. After all, he met this vampire not even 24 hours ago. Not even 12. Hell, not even 6. But there was something fascinating about him. Something that drew him in. Something that spoke to a part of him that he had thought was lost after returning from Afghanistan. This vampire made his blood race and his adrenaline rush. He made John feel alive. Even if it was only for a few weeks, John wanted to retain this feeling. He was just selfish that way, he supposed.

So he offered his neck. "I'll be your thrall."

Jim groaned before sinking his teeth into John's neck. A sharp stabbing pain assaulted him for only a few moments before his neck went numb. He could still feel the suction as Jim drew the blood out of his body and the warm, wet tongue that lapped at the marks on his neck.

"All done. Wasn't too painful, now was it?"

Turning around, John responded with a soft kiss. His tongue slipped eagerly inside Jim's mouth. Having forgotten the fangs, he wound up accidentally slicing his tongue open. As John went to break the kiss, Jim's arms fastened around him in a vice grip to keep their lips locked. He sucked greedily on John's tongue, drawing out more blood, before letting his tongue swipe across the wound. At first, John thought that he was just trying to get a better taste. When he felt his tongue begin to itch, he wiggled and pushed back far enough to break the kiss. He quickly brought his thumb up to rub across where the cut should be.

"It's gone…" he noticed in amazement.

"My saliva does have some healing properties. Enough to clot the bleeding for a bite or to heal a small scratch like that," Jim murmured as he began to gently shove John backwards.

Shaking his head, John muttered, "You're amazing."

"You haven't seen anything yet," Jim stated just before John's legs crashed into something.

John looked back to find the bed directly behind him. Sitting down, he allowed himself to be shoved back onto the bed. Jim's lips crashed into his again, the kiss needy but careful to not accidentally cut John's tongue again. Eventually, their kisses softened into something sweet. Jim's hands tugged up on John's shirt, and John pulled back in order to let it be removed. As soon as it hit the floor, John went back in for another kiss only to be shoved back. Blinking, John wondered if he did something wrong only to find that Jim's eyes weren't latched onto his face, but his shoulder. Immediately, John felt self-conscious about his wound, and he reached up to cover it. Jim intercepted his hand and turned his gaze up to John's face.

"What's wrong?" he pressed.

John shifted uncomfortably. "I don't like for people to touch or stare at it. It's hideous, and it marks my ultimate failure."

Blinking, Jim cocked his head slightly as he thought. "You were shot while tending to someone. They died because you couldn't help them anymore. But you survived." John felt vulnerable as Jim managed to deduce that. He was an open book for Jim, and he didn't feel comfortable that he couldn't keep any secrets from him. "You weren't ready for that."

"No. I wasn't," John conceded.

Jim nodded slowly. "Those were not my intentions. You must understand, I read people for a living, and it is difficult sometimes for me to un-see something, so to say. And once I observe it, I normally state it in order to confirm my suspicions."

Nodding, John muttered, "Yeah, I understand, but that doesn't mean you should. I don't appreciate such sensitive parts of my past being shoved back in my face. Anything that has to do with my military career is off limits."

"Very well," Jim said slowly. "But you will eventually talk to me about them?"

"Probably. You're bound to be here when I have a nightmare," John answered. By now, the mood had died for him, and he frowned.

Carefully, Jim pried John's hand away from his shoulder. John hadn't even realised that he was covering it. "I won't say anything about it, but you cannot continue to hide it while we're being intimate. You're my thrall now. There is no need to fear any rejection or condemnation from me."

"Could you try not looking at it either?" John pressed.

Nodding, Jim responded, "Whatever you need."

With that, he leaned down and lavished John's mouth again. John's attention was diverted to the invading tongue and light nibbles to his bottom lip. Jim's hands roamed John's upper torso, remaining distant from his wound, as he kneaded and caressed different parts to figure out John's erogenous zones. John hid nothing from Jim in that regard, allowing his sighs and moans to explain what he did and didn't like. Jim placed open-mouthed kisses down John's neck before sliding down and tugging off his trousers. By now, John was fully hard and aching for Jim's touch.

"I'm not going to take you tonight," Jim stated matter-of-factly as he freed John's cock. John let out a whimper of complaint. His body felt like it was on fire, and only Jim's cool touch seemed to soothe him. Grabbing some lube out of the nightstand, he slicked his hand as he continued, "We'll get to that some other night. We have plenty of time."

John let out a moan as he felt Jim's hand wrap around his cock. "I want you to take me," he managed to say, hoping to convince Jim otherwise.

"It's just the venom running through your system," Jim softly explained as he slid down in between John's legs. He looked up at John from where he was and grinned happily as their eyes met. Relaxing, John widened his legs to give Jim plenty of room. Gently, he pressed his other hand underneath John's knee and pushed up, causing John to comply and bend his leg slightly. "It's nice to see you so submissive – to see that you're _mine_ – but if I took you now, you would be overwhelmed with the sensations. Some thralls lose their minds. That's something I'm not willing to risk with you."

John groaned as he heard this. At the very least, Jim's hand had picked up speed. It was tight and fast, a flick of his wrist up, a swipe of his thumb over the tip, and a pull down to the base. Suddenly, he twisted abruptly, and John's back arched as he felt a shock of pleasure shoot through his system. Looking down, he found Jim feeding carefully from his inner thigh. John found that incredibly erotic, and he laced his fingers through Jim's hair. Jim hummed, his mouth vibrating against John's leg, as he continued to stroke him. Slowly but surely, John felt himself getting closer to his climax.

"Jim," he moaned out, needing more to get there.

Jim pulled away from his leg, giving a couple final swipes of his tongue, before wetting a finger in his mouth and abruptly shoving it into John's arse. When John felt his prostate hit, he arched off the bed and let out a low moan, spreading his legs out further. His mouth was spilling out praise after praise as he felt the coil in his stomach begin to knot up painfully tight. Just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, he came hard. His vision flashed white as his body tensed up. Jim played with his prostate and stroked him through his orgasm, which John was immensely grateful for. Once he was spent, he realised that he hadn't come on himself. At some point, Jim had wrapped his lips around the tip of John's cock, and he wound up swallowing every last drop.

After taking a moment to collect himself, John sat up and pulled Jim into a kiss. He could taste himself on Jim's tongue, and he allowed his hand to slip down to touch Jim's crotch as well. When he felt Jim intercept his hand again, he broke the kiss and leaned back in confusion. "Did I do something wrong?"

"You should undress me first," Jim prompted softly.

Nodding, John set to work. He quickly removed Jim's shirt, kissing down Jim's neck and chest. Quickly, John yanked off Jim's belt before tugging down his trousers and pants. Jim's cock sprang out, and John went to take it into his mouth when Jim stopped him again. "Alright, this is becoming a bit frustrating," John snapped as he pulled back. "You expect me to give myself to you completely but refuse to do the same."

Jim's eyes darkened slightly. "Sit back and watch, and you'll see why."

Huffing, John sat back and watched expectantly. Jim grabbed his cock and began to stroke it slowly, picking up speed as he went. Before John even knew what was happening, Jim's hand had become a blur as it jerked up and down. Jim's eyes remained locked on John's face, and John found everything more erotic than he should have been. Without warning, Jim moaned out John's name. His eyelids drooped slightly but his gaze remained locked onto John's face. Finally, he came with John's name on his lips. John leapt back, though, when he saw blood come squirting out of Jim's cock.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed as his mind began to race with every possible complication or illness that had such a symptom.

Breathing heavily, Jim smiled lazily at John. He leaned forward and kissed him softly. "Calm down," he murmured against John's lips. "It's natural."

"That is _not_ natural," John countered, now glad that Jim didn't let him suck him off.

"It is for vampires," Jim replied before kissing John again. John was relaxing under the small affections. "Our bodily functions are different. We only ingest blood, and it is absorbed into our system, so we don't have any waste. We also don't produce sperm anymore, so we cannot sire a child through human means."

John nodded. "So where does that leave us? Because I'm not too sure if I feel alright-"

"It's why we're starting slow. All thralls are a bit squeamish at first." Jim promised. All of a sudden, he pulled John to his feet and navigated him to the other bed. John groaned as he sank into the soft mattress. "You're going to fall asleep soon."

Confused, John answered, "But I don't feel tired."

"You will in a few. It's just part of the process. As you sleep, my venom will spread to the rest of your body, imprinting my scent on you," Jim explained. "I'll be right here when you wake up, though."

John hummed softly as he felt Jim's arms wrap around him. Pressing his face into Jim's chest, John let out a contented hum as his body was suddenly depleted of energy. Jim hadn't been joking. Giggling softly, John wrapped an arm around Jim's waist in return. His throat gave a dull ache as he drifted off, but he was happier then – with only Jim curled up around him – than he had been in all the time since returning from Afghanistan.

Suddenly, he stated, "Tomorrow, we find out everything about each other."

Jim chuckled as he heard this.

"Every non-sexual thing," John clarified, trying desperately to hold onto consciousness.

"Very well," Jim murmured in response, planting a kiss on John's forehead. "Have it your way."

With that, John slipped off into the most peaceful sleep had ever had since joining the army. Unbeknownst to him, Jim kept a silent vigil the whole time, running a hand through Jon's silky-soft, blond hair. "My thrall," Jim murmured possessively, his arm tightening around John. "Mine now and forever."


End file.
